


freefall

by symmetrophobic



Series: spy!au [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Espionage, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symmetrophobic/pseuds/symmetrophobic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this isn't the biggest assignment that jyp's newest espionage unit, dubbed got7 (you can blame jackson for that- you can always blame jackson, actually), has had on their hands, and that should mean things'll go like clockwork for sure, right? too bad not all six of them feel that way. got7 agent!au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 001

The point that patrols are much safer when done in pairs is a very, very poignant one, and no disrespect is intended upon the person who developed the idea. It’s a lot more convenient, see, when one of them has had a little too much to drink over dinner and needs to visit the bathroom without compromising the security of the area, or in case one of them is taken out by, say, some crazy talented secret agent in their attempts to infiltrate the area, that the other might be able to alert the rest in time. Be that as it may, one must come to the point of realization, with all due respect, that all one needs to do to infiltrate said area is to just get   
_two_  
crazy talented secret agents instead of one, then.

For aesthetic congruency, of course.

This point proves itself very nicely in a top-secret, highly secured research facility somewhere off the coast of Yokohama, Japan, a compact little mixture of glassy office skyscrapers and shallow concrete buildings, where double patrols are very seriously being carried out.

Or, they were, anyway. But tense is such an irrelevant formality here.

In the early hours of the morning, one of the two guards in the vehicle service area yawns. It’s 6.30am, definitely not prime time for sabotage of any sort. That kind of stuff usually happens at night. It’s early and he’s grumpy and convinced that his partner’s sloppiness during their last patrol was the reason for their third graveyard shift this fortnight, which is the reason why both of them insistently fail to notice the glint of two bright pairs of eyes, blinking in the shadows between the mountainous trucks and off-road vehicles.

Two pistols fitted with hypodermic darts and silencers are raised with the coordination that would make a team of synchronized swimmers weep in envy- two soft, sharp _whoosh_ sounds are emitted, two nimble bodies dart outwards to catch the unconscious men before they hit the ground.

Then one guy snarks about the other’s unstable turning back at the vehicles, and gets calmly smacked upside the head by the latter in return.

Jackson rubs his chin ruefully as Mark ignores him, the other instead running his dexterous fingers through the pockets of the fifth patrol they’ve taken down this morning, searching for the keycard they’d been looking for.

“Finally,” Mark mutters, barely looking up as he tosses the card in Jackson’s direction, choosing instead to use the split second earned to relieve the guards of their guns and ammo, plucking the darts out from their necks as he does so. Jackson scowls as he catches it easily, muttering to himself about _stupid partners_ and _I would so be better off solo_ as he mooches over to the service entrance.

It’s an empty complaint, though- Mark would grumble about how he’s always stuck trying to keep Jackson out of trouble when they’re out on an assignment, Jackson would declare every so often that he’d be better off without Mark holding him back, but they’re the best duo the Academy’s seen in decades, and everyone knows it, including them.

“Hey, I think we’re going in,” Jackson says, seemingly to no one in particular, loading another round of darts into his gun. “Worship us.”

“ _Jackson, can you focus?”_ both men wince as Jaebum snaps over the radio. _“How long do you think it’ll take before we can get the upper security cameras on loop?”_

“Ten minutes, if Youngjae’s intel was right,” Mark gives the bodies a final kick, rolling them out of sight under the cars. “We just need to get the scrambler around the security cam wires, right?”

“ _Yeah. I’m feeding the lower levels a loop now, but you guys have three minutes to get to the elevator shaft to get up there before I have to renew it,”_ Yugyeom’s voice comes in next, and both men take a second longer than they usually would to adjust to the change. _“Think you guys can make it, or do you want to wait it out till the next loop?”_

“Three minutes?” Jackson’s grinning, more to lift the spirits of everyone rather than show off, for once, as he flicks the safety off with an unnecessarily loud click, and Mark rolls his eyes. “That’s more than enough.”

“You’re going to get us both killed one day,” Mark mutters, sidling reluctantly over to the door, gun at the ready, waiting for Jackson to swipe the keycard. “Do you even know where the elevator shaft is?”

“Eh, we’ll find it,” Jackson waves his gun unconcernedly, readying the keycard with his other hand. “Eventually.”

Mark concludes that Jackson runs the keycard then so he won’t have the time to deliver his comeback as they’re both forced into a tense, oppressive silence, and is reduced to shooting him a death glare as they set foot into the building proper.

Over the radio, Jinyoung comments languidly.

“ _Jackson’s got a higher probability of being killed by Mark than any patrol out there, if I’m to be honest.”_

“He can’t,” Jackson mutters, as they round a corner, thankfully unnoticed. “He won’t be able to live a day with me gone.”

Mark grits his teeth, and makes a mental note to step on Jackson’s fingers when they’re climbing the shafts later.

*

“This place is fancy,” Bambam comments for the fifth time, and Jaebum glares over from his stiff-backed perch by the windows. “ _What_?”

“Bambam, let’s keep the irrelevant traffic _out_ of our radio for this one, alright?”

“Alright, fine,” Bambam mutters, twisting the near invisible, whisper-sensitive button mic clipped to his collar, and Jinyoung glances over in concern, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Come on, guys, let’s pull through this one, okay?” he half mutters into his mic, and an ounce of the tension in Jaebum’s shoulders seems to leak out as he inhales, the sound pained and drawn, even where they’re standing now.

Yugyeom, thankfully, has the sense to change tact, dragging them all back to the most important thing at hand.

“Did you get the scrambler on the wire?”

He hasn’t managed to hack into the security system from the outside- only Youngjae would’ve been able to do something like that. It’s the reason they’re forced to send Mark and Jackson in blind like this to hotwire it manually, to give him access to the tightened surveillance system on the upper floors where their prize lies, and even then he won’t be able to turn the security against the guards- just put the cameras on loop in stifling five-minute intervals so they won’t get caught.

“ _Almost there,_ ” Mark’s voice comes in clear, slightly out of breath. One would expect as much (probably more) from someone who’d just scaled almost twenty vertical stories in an elevator shaft. “ _We just need to expose the camera wires and wrap the scrambler around it, right?”_

“Yeah,” Yugyeom keeps it at that, not bothering with any relevant explanations or complaints about the (honestly already rather swell) equipment they get from HQ, and the six of them lapse into a stretched, tense silence.

The pause after his terse reply feels awfully empty, now, without the paragraphs of technospeak and muttered grumbles about how no one appreciates his genius that they would’ve heard, had they not-…

“Hey,” Jinyoung murmurs, running a hand down Jaebum’s shoulder blade, eliciting a tight shift in his muscles of acknowledgement. “Stop worrying so much. We’re going to get him back, alright?”

Jaebum leans ever so slightly into the touch, an infinitesimal sigh leaving his lips. “How do you know that?”

“We lost you once,” though Jinyoung smiles, he still shivers inwardly at the thought. “If we can get you back, we can get him, no problem.”

“That was different, I helped with half of that,” Jaebum scoffs lightly. “You know how Jae is. Guards aren’t a problem, but put him up against a trained professional-…”

“They know how useful he is,” Jinyoung says firmly. “They aren’t just going to kill him off and lose what could be the biggest investment of their career. They’re going to keep him alive, hyung.”

“Alive how?” Bambam mutters from aside, and Yugyeom extends an abnormally long leg to kick him sternly in the thigh. That seems to snap Jaebum out of it, though, and he straightens, sliding off his seat as Jackson’s voice comes over the radio again.

“ _We’re good. Yugyeom, you looping this level?”_

“Got it. Looping will take about a minute,” Yugyeom says absently. “How’s the zipline, Jaebum-hyung?”

“On it once Mark and Jackson clear us a route,” Jaebum’s squinting into the reflective panels of the neighbouring building, shifting the cables in his hands once Mark appears at the window, tread cautious. It’s a tense minute or so as the other man begins to cut out the glass panel for that window, hands steady, ashen face illuminated by the sparks of the cutter in his hand.

They’re all tense, anticipating the looming face of a guard, and when someone does appear in the glass Jinyoung actually takes out his gun on instinct, and Jaebum raises a hand immediately, ordering him to hold his fire.

(This isn’t to say, however, that any of them doubt his ability to deliver a fatal shot through a panel of reinforced glass and a stretch of capriciously windy abyss.)

There’s a tiny, albeit collective, sigh of relief, when it’s Jackson who appears at the window, peering over, before he disappears again, probably to keep lookout.

They’ve already removed the glass panel for their level, secured their cable in the concrete above their window, and as Mark stands to remove the panel Jaebum raises the gun, aiming straight for the window.

There’s barely a second’s reprieve after Mark removes the glass that Jaebum fires, and the other end of the cable shoots across the space, shifting slightly in the wind by an angle the leader had already calibrated perfectly, so the hook lands almost directly in Jackson’s open hands.

“We’re on,” Jaebum says, once Jackson’s secured the other end, giving a thumbs up, and Jinyoung’s already on it, taking a running leap, hooking his rifle over the top of the cable, before cruising the rest of the way over almost silently, almost a hundred stories above ground level. “Yugyeom, you’re staying here to provide visual support and renew the loops, but be ready to get over there if we blow our cover and need the manpower. Bambam, you’re staying with me once we’re in that building.”

“Yes, sir,” Bambam mock salutes, before following Jinyoung across the cable, his light frame sliding over effortlessly, and Jaebum watches him go for a moment, chewing his lower lip unconsciously as he stares down the wide, gaping space between them.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom says quickly, then, as Jaebum takes a step towards the open window. “Don’t worry, alright? We’ve got this one.”

Jaebum chuckles, insides burning with a little shame at having let the rest of them see him so anxious, before he forces a smile.

“That’s the spirit, Gyeom. Thanks.”

*

“We’re going over the plan one last time.”

They’re moving fast, the layout of this building committed to memory on the evac ride out of their last assignment, and they know they’ve got about thirty seconds before they need to split ways.

“We’re looking for a package. We don’t know what it looks like, don’t know how big it is- all we have is the imprint of its radioactive signature. There are two vaults in the building, in the East and West Wings, and it should be in one of them. Mark and Jackson, you guys are heading over to the first vault at the East Wing,” Jaebum says, and on cue, almost, the two of them branch off. “Bambam and Jinyoung are going with me to the vault at the West Wing. Report if anything happens.”

“ _Loops are functioning as per normal_ ,” Yugyeom informs. “ _I locked the areas where security and surveillance concentration are particularly high on your maps_.”

“Noted,” Jaebum brings the live images up on the map in his tracker, hoping Mark and Jackson are doing the same. He’s surprised at how much Yugyeom’s been able to do in Youngjae’s absence- true, they were all trained in every aspect of the job, but hacking and tech had been purely Youngjae’s forte. There’s no doubt that the three youngest of the team are probably the brightest, but it’s obvious that Yugyeom must’ve been doing some independent research and practice on his own to get to this level. He makes a mental note to lobby for a pay raise once they get back.

“ _Nearing the East Wing,”_ Mark’s voice comes on as Jaebum rounds a tight corner. “ _It’s closer than we thought, with the alignment change between the buildings. Do we proceed?”_

“Go ahead, keep us updated,” Jaebum orders, before checking the soft blue display of the map on his tracker. “We’ll only reach our vault in a few minutes. Tell us if you manage to identify the package there, and we’ll detour to get to rendezvous.”

“This is a waste of time,” Bambam grumbles. “If we’d just known which vault the package was in-…”

“Yeah, well, we don’t,” Jaebum bites back, stomach twisting with unease at the thoughts that spring up next.

_We don’t even know what this package looks like. What if it isn’t in either of the vaults?_

“Bambam,” Jinyoung says warningly, and the boy mumbles a _what, sorry_.

This cues a minute or so more of silence, nothing but heavy, quiet breaths and hushed footsteps, it takes the West team a while to notice the unnatural quiet on the other side.

“Mark, what’s your progress?” Jinyoung’s the one to address it first, frowning, though he doesn’t stop running. “Report.”

Jaebum sends a glance back at Jinyoung as they’re met with radio silence.

“Jackson, report,” Jaebum says it this time, a little more firmly. “What’s your status?”

“ _Shit!”_

Something that sounds like a _roar_ is deafening the mic, balanced out by the audio stabilisers, but still almost making their hearts stop.

“Hyung, what _was_ that?” Bambam asks, and Jinyoung urges him to keep running.

“ _Shit, they were fucking waiting for us, hyung!”_ Jackson’s not bothering to keep his voice down anymore, which can only mean one thing- their cover’s been blown. _“Hyung, it’s this vault! They came for this vault!”_

Jinyoung makes an abrupt turn, followed quickly by Bambam, but Jaebum slows to a stop, brow furrowed.

“No, no wait, don’t go back yet,” his breathing is barely laboured, but he’s thinking hard, shaking his head. “We need a proper plan. _Yugyeom_ , what the hell happened?”

“ _Sorry, hyung_ ,” Yugyeom sounds frustrated. “ _I have no idea how they knew, one of my loops must’ve been sloppy.”_

Jaebum takes a deep breath, Jinyoung winces. “Okay. We can make do with this. Yugyeom, keep up with the visual support, tell us what’s ahead of us.”

“Then we have to go, don’t we?” Bambam’s already moving, eyes wide and worried. “They’re under fire over there! That means that’s the vault we’re after, right?”

“No, no I don’t think so,” Jaebum’s frowning, gesturing quickly for them to follow. “They were smart enough not to give it away by sending guards to us when we triggered the alarm. They’re smart enough to try to draw us away from the vault we need by defending the other one. I think the West vault is the one we’re after.”

“Can you guys manage?” Jinyoung’s speaking into his mic, and Bambam flinches as they pick up the pace at the sound of another slow roar. “And what the hell _is_ that?”

“ _They’ve got a fucking_ flamethrower, _Jinyoung, that’s what the hell that is!”_ Jackson’s yelling, almost, sounding nearly disappointed.

Then-… _“Why the hell don’t we have a flamethrower?”_

“Because you’d either kill yourself or one of us with it, and either way, it’s a lot of paperwork for me,” Jaebum replies curtly, as they round their last corner. “Take care of them and meet us at the evac point. Make it snappy.”

“ _Yes sir,”_ Jackson grumbles. _“Over and out.”_

*

“They’re selfish assholes!” Jackson yells, and Mark winces, putting a hand to his earpiece as he simultaneously shoots a guard down with the gun in his other.

“Yes, we've established that,” Mark mutters, ducking back behind his cover to reload. “Since when _wasn’t_ Jaebum completely absorbed in the mission, Jackson?”

There’s a pause as Jackson fires three shots in a row, hitting a guard with every shot, before stooping to reload as well. “Since the higher ups made him leader and shoved like, three sticks up his ass in the process?”

Mark winces at the imagery. “Uh, you could say that.”

“ _Shit,_ ” Jackson swears loudly as a bullet ricochets off where his head had been a split second before. “Piece of _shit-…_ ”

“Could you keep it down, for _one moment_ ,” Mark bites out into his mic, not even looking as he fires a spread of bullets with an abandoned rifle, catching a row of guards easily, preferring instead to scowl in Jackson’s direction. “You don’t even need a grenade to blow up my eardrums, I _swear_ -…”

“Is that why they started giving you all the flashbangs?” Jackson sounds utterly betrayed, sending a horrified look over in Mark’s direction as slams a broken shelf into a guard, sending him flying back into another. “I knew it! I knew I wasn’t just imagining things!”

“Don’t cry too much,” Mark snorts, deliberately sending a grenade into the corridor, then, and effectively clearing half the approaching security at once. “You’re going to get yourself a rocket launcher one day, I’m sure.”

They’re both forced to drop to their chests on the ground, however, as the roar of the flamethrower starts again, and Jackson clutches his hair protectively to his head.

The air smells faintly of smoke as both of them look up at the heavily armoured specialist, bulky body covered in bulkier armour and Kevlar, gas mask obscuring his (probably ugly, Jackson would say critically) features, leering down at the two of them, the flamethrower heavy in his gloved hands.

“Or a flamethrower,” Jackson gets to his feet slowly once it’s over, fixing the offending specialist with a _look_ , Mark doing the same beside him.

“Or a flamethrower,” Mark agrees, hooking a nearby rifle with his foot to toss it into his hands as Jackson takes out his carbine. “Looks like today’s your lucky day, man.”

They lurch forward, disappearing in the blink of an eye, splitting ways easily before the flamethrower can charge up again. Mark goes around the back, Jackson through to the front, the standard operating procedure, but both are forced to circle back as the flames burst out in a circle around the wielder.

“Concentrate fire,” Mark gives the command but it’s almost redundant, now, because Jackson’s already on the same page.

Their bullets bounce off the bulky armour, no surprises there, of course. In the few seconds they’d been still to get in their shots, though, the flamethrower’s charged up again, and Jackson’s forced to roll out of the way to avoid a streak of flame.

“ _Shit_ , Mark, behind you!”

A hail of gunfire rains down from the corridor- security’s coming in in walls, and both of them are forced to duck behind cover.

There’s no way to concentrate their firepower on the flamethrower, at this rate, and every passing moment stuck behind cover means another moment that the flamethrower can get closer. They know how to use their specialists, Mark will give them that.

“Cover me,” Mark’s breathing heavily as he waits for the lull in gunfire, before ducking out, slamming behind a row of two cabinets.

“What the hell are you doing, man, you’re in too close!” Jackson’s shouting even through the mic, and Mark presses his lips together grimly. “Mark, the flamethrower’s coming for you! _Mark!”_

“What did I tell you,” Mark grits his teeth, poking his head out to get the flamethrower in his sights, before aiming for the reinforced metal tank hidden behind the man’s back. “About shouting,” he fires once. “In the _fucking_ ,” he fires another, landing it in the exact same spot. “ _Earpiece?_ ”

The last shot hits home, and Mark ducks back behind the cabinets, bracing, before the explosion _rocks_ the room, and he feels the heat roll around him in waves a moment after the sound of the explosion nearly bursts his brain.

Then silence.

Mark doesn’t know how long he’s out for. There’s a faint whining noise in his ear and he doesn’t think he can hear anything, that and white’s starting to cloud in his vision from the sides, but someone grabs him, drags him up, and he’s fighting back instinctively before a faint noise drags him back to the present.

“… _asshole_! What the _hell_ was that, were you trying to _kill_ yourself, you stupid _idiot_!” Jackson’s swearing freely, and Mark vaguely registers the other man giving him a perfunctory check. “Can you stand? How’s your vision? Can you hear me?”

“Shut up,” Mark half slurs, pushing a hand in Jackson’s face, reaching blindly with his other hand to grab his head, groaning. “Never doing that again, _ow_ , my _head,_ ” he blinks, looking around blearily at the now ashen state of the room, burning in places here and there. “Did we get them, at least?”

“It was a clean sweep, man,” Jackson snorts. “I took out the few that survived it. C’mon, Jaebum says to give the vault a check before rendezvous, in case his hunch is wrong. Think you can cover me from outside while I look?”

“Is that even a question?” Mark grumbles, settling heavily near the entrance of the vault, grabbing a rifle from the charred hands of a guard and hissing at the hot metal against his skin. “Sorry about the flamethrower, by the way.”

There’s a pause, before Jackson throws his head back, laughing. Mark glares up at him as Jackson pats his shoulder, sniggering.

“Don’t worry, man,” he says, voice echoing as he heads into the vault. “I’d have you over a crummy flamethrower any day.”  
  



	2. 002

“Fifteen minutes till evac expects us,” Jaebum effectively clears the last guard from the vault doorway, as Jinyoung works at the lock, nimble fingers almost a blur at the speed they’re going.

“The pressure is very helpful, hyung, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“By helpful I meant there are a lot of other things you could be doing to assist, other than giving me a countdown.”

“He wants you to _give him_ something else, hyung,” Bambam supplies helpfully. Jaebum silences him with a look.

Jackson’s cackling over the mic, at this point, and Jinyoung gets the last few numbers in, before the door unlocks with a deafening _clack_ , and Jinyoung stands, pleased.

“Alright, find the package, then we’ll get back to the primary pick-up point on the roof,” Jaebum says, as Bambam and Jinyoung step in once the doors open, watching cautiously for further traps. “Yugyeom, get ready to go on your end, too.”

“ _Got it.”_

“Jackson, what’s your status?”

_“I’m scanning the vault like you told me, nothing’s come up so far. Mark’s outside keeping lookout.”_

“Noted. Keep us posted,” Jaebum mutters, walking further into the room.

The first thing that comes to mind, for all of them, probably, is that this whole place is awfully showy for a vault- ornamental guns polished and gleaming on silvery stands, frankly pretty monstrous embroidered silk carpets and drapes elaborately arranged around the cavernous room, giant gold framed oil and water colour paintings resting regally on the walls. It isn’t so much a vault as it is a tightly-secured showroom or auction house of some sort, Jaebum concludes.

“ _Whoa_ , that is one _ugly_ gun,” Bambam’s eyes are wide, observing the prized ceremonial rifle perched on one of the displays, when Jaebum’s two rows away.

“Stay on target, Bambam,” the team leader orders sharply. “Trackers out, look for anything that matches the radioactive signature we got from the warehouse at our previous location.”

Jinyoung’s already covered two columns by this time, the black sensor in his hand beeping softly, and Jaebum follows suit on the other end. There’s silence for a period of time as they walk through the rows, eyes glued to their trackers.

“I’m not getting anything,” Jinyoung’s frowning, once he’s come to the end of the first half. “Jackson-hyung, did you guys get anything?”

“ _Uh, no? We scanned the place top to bottom- or I did, anyway. I just thought Jaebum hyung was right about his hunch. We’re on the way to the rendezvous now.”_

Jaebum’s stomach sinks, as he exhales, sending his eyes spinning across the room.

“ _Jaebum_ ,” it’s Mark now, sounding cautiously worried. “ _What if it isn’t in either?”_

“It’s got to be in one of these,” Jaebum rakes a hand through his hair, frustrated. “No, it isn’t important enough for them to put it away specially, but it’s valuable enough that they’d put it in a vault. It’s got to be in one of these.”

“It was pretty valuable, though, right?” Jinyoung sounds thoughtful, turning a concerned glance his way. “Maybe it is here, just somewhere…special?”

“ _Somewhere its signature is concealed, maybe? Do you see anything lead?”_

Jaebum’s eyes are already scanning each artefact, neatly propped up on each display, searching for anything that could possibly contain their prize.

“Paintings?” Jinyoung’s looking at the huge frames on the walls, in calligraphy ink and oils of scenery and villages, and Jaebum nods.

“Bambam,” he looks back as he’s walking over, to see the boy still enraptured by the gun, sitting atop a glassy mirror cube display stand. “Bam, come on, give us a hand.”

“Hang on a minute, hyung,” Bambam’s squinting. “Look, there are words on this,” he straightens, and Jaebum hesitates, looking back at the paintings, before walking over reluctantly to frown at the writing under the gun.

“What does that even say?” Jaebum can’t read the Japanese characters printed on the tiny bronze name plate below the gun- Bambam’s the specialist when it comes to communications and interpretation, anyway. They’d always relied on the younger boy for direct interaction with any foreigners they’d come into contact with, or when any of them needed help translating documents or audio clips. It was that or ask Jackson to help, a sure fire way to make them stick out like sore thumbs wherever they went or get an annoying live commentary on everything that was being said, highly undesirable- regardless of how many languages that man knew.

“ _Syonan-to, 1957,_ ” Bambam pronounces perfectly. “Doesn’t really fit, right?”

It takes Jaebum a while to notice.

 _“What’s wrong with that?”_ Mark’s voice comes in. _“It’s probably a gun they invented during that time period.”_

“Yugyeom?” Bambam’s talking into his mic now, and there’s a split second pause.

“ _He’s right, the information’s off,”_ Yugyeom sounds thoughtful, and Jaebum listens, because if Yugyeom’s chasing a lead, then it probably means something. “ _Syonan-to’s not a gun name, it’s a place. It’s what they renamed one of the countries they occupied, and that ended in ‘45. Why would they have a gun invented there in 1957?”_

Jaebum’s dubious, wanting to dismiss it as probably just a misprint, but Bambam reaches out, then, watching the gun carefully, before wrapping slender fingers around the trigger, and pulling.

There’s a soft hiss, and nothing, at first. Then the walls of the display stand beneath it seem to be _dissolving_ , and the three of them step back quickly to see the mirroring quality of the glass start to fade, until it’s completely clear.

Inside, sitting on a black cushion, is a silvery case, opened delicately to reveal a gadget of some sort, sitting pristinely on the velvet.

Their attention’s brought to Jinyoung’s tracker, which is beeping stronger than it had before, and Jaebum looks back at the case.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung murmurs, before tapping a few buttons, comparing the signatures on the two artefacts. “I think this is it.”

“Alright, guys, I think we found it. It’s a silver container, fashioned like some pretty fancy case, and it’s in some sort of special glass case,” Jaebum says, staring at the case, eyes running over its edges and lines, searching for a point of entry, before he takes a breath, gears whirring in his mind.

“Okay, once we get the artefact out of the case, everyone’s to head straight for the rendezvous point. Mark, call evac now. Yugyeom, pack up. Let’s keep this one clean, okay?”

“ _Got it, hyung.”_

_“Calling evac now, Jaebum.”_

“Uh. You know, isn’t it kinda funny,” Bambam says all of a sudden. “That they, you know,” he squints over at the open security door, as Jaebum runs his hands along the glass case, considering whether or not to risk breaking it. “Haven’t sent a second wave of security at us?”

There’s a pregnant pause in which all three of them look around warily. Jaebum waits for something to happen for a whole two seconds, and after being sure that nothing’s going to jump out of the door at them, opens his mouth to tell Bambam harshly not to jinx it.

But then the vault doors start to close, and panels in the ceiling open up, making way for masked men to slide down on cables, ready to fan out to surround them.

“Opportune,” Jinyoung comments, already taking out his gun and starting to pick them off one by one. “Thanks for the invitation, Bambam.”

“ _Shit,_ there’s a lot of them- _out_ , all of us, forget about trying to face-off on this one,” Jaebum orders hastily, thinking _to hell with it_ before unslinging his rifle and smashing the butt of it into the glass. “Head for the doors, both of you.”

The case is closed, locked, and in Jaebum’s hands, and it’s a blur of gunfire and quick, muffled explosions as they run for the door. Jinyoung’s out first, and Jaebum slides the case out, before getting through himself. There’s a pause before-…

“Bambam!” Jinyoung’s urging, spying the second youngest struggling to break through a wall of the guards, watching them surround him now that they’ve sensed the other two are beyond reach, and all the manage to glimpse is a split second of his eyes, slightly wide with alarm, before he’s forced to duck for cover out of the line of fire.

Then it’s two seconds of tense indecision, before the doors finally slam close between them.

“There’s an override here, I can’t get through,” Jaebum’s jabbing at the panel. “ _Fuck,”_ he kicks at the panel, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “There’s nothing we can do here.”

“ _What’s going on, hyung? What happened?”_ Yugyeom’s volume goes up by a notch, barely noticeable over the radio.

“Bambam can take care of himself,” Jaebum’s breathing hard, half like he’s telling himself, gesturing for Jinyoung to follow him, as they break into a run down the corridor. “The priority here is to get the case to the rooftop now.”

“ _Hyung, what’s going on?”_

“Bambam’s joining us later. Proceed as per normal.”

“ _He’s still in the vault?”_ Yugyeom demands, at once, and Jaebum tenses.

“Yugyeom, get to the rendezvous point, do you hear me? Bambam can get himself out. Yugyeom _acknowledge,_ ” he barks. “Do _not_ go in after him, he’s smart enough to find a way to the rendezvous himself. Our priority is to get the case on the dropship, hear me?”

Radio silence follows.

“ _You know he isn’t going to follow a bullshit order like that, hyung,_ ” Jackson says sympathetically. “ _If it helps, Mark and I are here, getting pummelled by security. We’d welcome evac any time, now._ ”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Jaebum groans. “Jinyoung and I are on our way.”

*

 _I’ve really done it this time_ , Bambam thinks, sending a spread of gunfire out blind from his cover, not even feeling properly satisfied at the multiple sounds of pain that follow. _I’m a sitting duck._

His only hope is to get up one of the cables that the men are sliding down from, but he’d be a perfect target for the hail of gunfire to follow, he’s sure. He’ll have to clear himself some breathing air, first.

The grenade he aims next manages to blow up a space, just enough for him to stand from his cover, make a run for one of the cables nearer the door, and he groans when more of them start coming down.

He’s surrounded, now, with the introduction of the newer guards, held at gunpoint from all angles, and orders to surrender are shouted out in broken English.

_This is it._

Bambam reluctantly drops the rifle he’d pilfered from the bodies one of the guards, before placing both his hands on top of his head. He resigns himself to finding a way out once they’ve brought him out of the vault- that’s their main advantage over him, here. Bambam doesn’t operate well in enclosed spaces- he works better where he can hide, where he can run, not like Jaebum or Yugyeom, who prefer direct confrontation like this.

Apparently they seem to know that, too, because he’s forced towards the wall, hands dragged behind him in an uncomfortable position before what feels like iron weights are clamped down tight on his forearms. They’re electricity powered, Bambam can tell from the soft hum they emit against his skin, but even on the tightest setting, though, they still hang slightly loose on his arms.

“This is so unnecessary,” Bambam complains in English, though he can speak Japanese perfectly well. “Can’t we talk this over?”

“Get him to a holding cell,” the team leader is telling the others in sharp orders. “The rest of you, head back up and cut the others off before they reach the roof.”

He’s tugged forcefully away, brought stumbling slightly towards the vault doors, mind already buzzing with schemes on how to break out from these cuffs, listening sullenly to the rest of the orders the leader is shouting out.

He’s thinking about all the ways he could break out of these cuffs now, _just_ to step on the team leader’s face, as the doors start to slide open, and the leader steps ahead, probably to seem like a general leading his troops out of successful battle.

Until the doors actually open, and he realises something’s blocking his way.

“That,” Yugyeom takes a step forward, unfolding his arms from across his chest, forcing the men one step back. “Isn’t yours.”

The thing about how Yugyeom operates is that he’s so much brute force, people forget how fast he actually is sometimes. The first blow sends two of them flying back into the others, and by the time they’ve gotten their guns out Yugyeom’s grabbed a rifle from one of their limp hands, sending gunfire sinking into Kevlar, knocking them back.

Bambam twists out of the grip of the people holding him, legs hooking around their ankles to send them spinning to the ground, before he ducks out of the fray past the door of the vault.

“Grenade!” Yugyeom shouts, and Bambam gets the hint immediately as the younger boy throws one as he backs out, slamming a foot into the panel, smashing the display, so the doors close after them.

Bambam winces at the muffled explosion that follows behind the vault doors, closed once more, breathing heavy, before looking reluctantly at Yugyeom.

“You’re late,” he mutters, and Yugyeom scoffs.

“No _thank you for saving my life, I’ll never insult your fashion sense again_? I’ll keep that in mind next time your ass is in trouble,” he goes around Bambam to help with the cuffs, and the other boy rolls his eyes as Yugyeom gives a low whistle.

“Wow. Japanese tech never fails to amaze, this is a pretty solid pair of handcuffs.”

“Stop admiring the source of my suffering and just get the stupid things off, my elbow’s going to dislocate,” Bambam hisses, looking over his shoulder to where Yugyeom’s leisurely examining the cuffs, fingers running over one of the rectangular grooves in the alloy. “We need to report our status now, my radio got busted in there. Yours still working?”

“Uh, can you do that? I kind of tuned out when Jaebum started threatening to dock my pay for coming here,” Yugyeom twists the tiny device out of his collar with one hand, before pinning it to Bambam’s neckline with one hand and turning it back on while he works on the handcuffs with the other. “ _Another_ reason you should thank me, by the way. Your earpiece still working?”

“Yeah, it just got shut off in there, ugh, hang on,” Bambam tilts his head, knocking the device in his ear against his shoulder a few times, before Jaebum’s voice crackles in, and he winces.

“ _…support needed on hundred and tenth floor, I repeat, they’re blocking us off. Jackson, Mark, support is needed.”_

“Yugyeom and I are out, heading for your location now,” Bambam mutters into the mic, wriggling uncomfortably in the cuffs, and Yugyeom chuckles.

“Didn’t think you were opposed to these things, by the way,” he comments, tapping the cuffs with a grin as he flips open a panel, and Bambam shoots him his best death glare.

“Once I’m out of these, I’m going to hit you,” he grumbles, body shifting reluctantly as Yugyeom tugs on the cuffs.

“I’ll take my time, then,” Yugyeom murmurs, tapping on the light display, and Bambam lifts a leg blindly to kick him.

“Shit, _shit_ , no time, no time,” Bambam’s eyes widen, suddenly, and he pulls Yugyeom along the corridor at the sound of rushed footsteps approaching. “Gyeom, they’re _coming-…_ ”

“ _Damn_ nit,” Yugyeom curses, pressing a final button, and the cuffs come off.

“Go go go!” Bambam takes to a run as the cuffs fall to the floor, Yugyeom close behind.

“Service stairwell is on the left!” Yugyeom shouts, and Bambam breaks through the doorway, taking to the stairs two at a time.

They turn out of the stairwell at the hundred and tenth floor, footsteps heavy against the carpet. The windows are smashed here, probably from Jaebum and Jinyoung’s trip by, overlooking the steep drop if any of them were to take one wrong step at this point, and Bambam can hear his heart hammering in his ears at the sound of wind circulating the building hungrily outside, like it’s waiting to drag them out, swallow them should they fall.

“They’re cutting us off ahead,” Yugyeom grabs Bambam’s arm, holding him back as men fan out on the other end of the corridor.

Time seems to come to a standstill, as the men draw closer, knowing that the two of them are cornered, and the boys find themselves back to back, wind howling in through the broken window panes, swirling in around them, threatening to pull them over.

But then Bambam feels Yugyeom press a gun into his hand, and feels infinitely braver than he had been about a second ago.

“You take this side, I’ll take the other?”

Bambam somehow manages a grin, then, despite the shortness of breath. “Try to keep up, then.”

They split, at this point, and both sides are blurs of gunfire and physical contact. Bambam makes use of the geographical advantage- being faster and lighter means being able to turn others’ strength against themselves, and as he unbalances one guard after another over the edge he hopes this is redemption for the embarrassing defeat that’d taken place in the vault. Uniforms are dropping left and right, and Bambam gets through the first wave of them easily.

The second’s a little harder, when half of them are visibly tougher, stronger, and Bambam’s quick, peppering attacks are near useless. He’s almost dragged into a chokehold by one, escaping by the skin of his teeth, when-…

“ _Duck!_ ”

Bambam drops instinctively without even looking back, and a rifle flies over his head with the likeness of a javelin, slamming one in the head and causing him to spin into the other, forcing him off the narrow corridor into the abyss outside.

“Alright, that,” Bambam gripes as he grabs the rifle, sending a spread of gunfire into the crowd. “Was just showing off.”

“More like twice I saved your life,” Yugyeom snorts as he comes up behind him, armed with an assault rifle of his own. “How about a thank you, for once-…”

“ _Grenade_!”

One of them must be getting desperate, because he throws a grenade in the tiny space, at this point, and Bambam forces Yugyeom aside, pitching them both over the edge into open air.

There’s a split second moment of panic, before Yugyeom manages to grab a bit of loose piping hanging from under the concrete, long and black and hanging out like a snake from the broken cement, catching Bambam with the other arm, and the explosion bursts whatever little glass that’d been left in that corridor.

“That’s _thrice_ -….”

“Oh shut up,” Bambam groans. “If I hadn’t pushed us we’d both be dead.”

The piping groans threateningly.

“Okay, we’ve got a minute or so before this thing gives,” Yugyeom peers at it critically, before looking back down at Bambam. “Plan?”

“Lob me back there. I’ll pull you up.”

“You sure? They’re probably waiting for us,” the piping groans again, slipping out, now, and Yugyeom shrugs. “Alright, guess we don’t have a choice.”

“Go long,” Bambam pats Yugyeom’s forearm, and Yugyeom sways slightly, gaining momentum, before _pulling_ , and swinging Bambam back up in a graceful arc that is at least 70% Bambam’s doing, he insists.

Shouts of confusion abound as Bambam literally flies back, landing on the charred ground, and there’s a brief period of panic firing in which everyone is caught in crossfire except Bambam (try attempting to shoot something from both ends in a narrow corridor) and though he makes excellent work out of the remaining soldiers he doesn’t stop to brag for a moment, darting out of the line of fire, impatient to get this over with.

He doesn’t even wait until the last guard’s dropped before he’s smashing open the case to the fire hose with a rifle, dragging the piping out to toss over the edge, breathing heavy.

“We’re even after this, right?” he shouts down, as the black hose sways in the strong wind, and he scans the corridor for incoming assailants.

After a second too long of unresponsiveness, something strikes, low and anxious, in his gut.

“You admiring the scenery down there, or something?” Bambam hollers, grabbing the metal scaffolding between empty window panels for support as he sticks his head out to scan the periphery below. “What’s taking you so-…”

His sentence stops abruptly there.

The piping is gone, the point where it’d broken off sticking out from under the concrete, shifting stiffly in the brisk wind.

It takes Bambam a while, but he sinks back onto his calves, eyes wide, breathing shallow, as Jaebum’s voice sounds from his earpiece.

_“Bambam, Yugyeom, report your location. Are you headed for evac?”_

_Mission. You’re on an assignment._ It takes every last ounce of the training that’d been drilled into Bambam to force himself to his feet, stumbling, clutching to the metal scaffolding for support.

“ _Yugyeom, where are you? The package is nearing the extraction zone. We need the two of you over here now.”_

Bambam doesn’t mean to let the silence stretch, but he doesn’t think he can talk.

 _“Are the two of you okay?”_ it’s Jinyoung now, voice worried.

“This is Bambam,” Bambam inhales, before starting along the corridor at a slow jog, not trusting himself to run any faster. “I’ll be at the extraction zone in three minutes.”

“ _What about Yugyeom?”_

“He’s joining us later.”

There’s a pause, then, too long for anyone’s liking.

“ _Noted. We’ll meet you at the extraction zone, then.”_


	3. 003.

  


The silence is too pronounced for Mark’s comfort.

They’ve been up here, unscathed after the first wave of security, for much too long now, and Mark tenses at the sight of a figure entering through the roof entrance.

He sighs in relief when it turns out to be Jaebum and Jinyoung, though, followed by Bambam after a few moments, muscles slackening in their tension.

“Where’s evac?” Jaebum shouts over the wind at Jackson, who shrugs.

“They reported in about five minutes ago, said they got held up at Yokohama.”

“Okay,” Jaebum sounds inexplicably relieved, but all of them know why- this means more time bought, more time before they have to leave anyone behind.

“It’s been too quiet,” Mark comments, squinting in the bright light. “I feel like they’re planning something.”

“The sensor’s been acting up too,” Jackson says, tossing his tracker over to Jaebum, who glances it over. “It’s been beeping like mad since we left the vault, I don’t even know what the commands on the screen are saying.”

Jaebum turns, holding it, before realising there’s no one he can verify the data with- not while they’re down to the strength they’re at now.

“Looks like a homing signal of some sort,” Jinyoung peers over. “For _what_ , though, I have no idea.”

“Homing signal? Doesn’t that mean someone’s trying to transmit to us?” Bambam sends a reluctant glance over at the tracker in Jaebum’s hand.

“Who’d know our frequency?” Jackson squints, making a face. “Sounds pretty dodgy, don’t you think?”

The beeping’s coming in stronger and stronger, increasingly urgent, and Jaebum squints at the jumble of numbers springing up on the screen, trying to make sense of it. There’s a pattern, he realises, a short series of numbers repeated over and over again.

“You recognise this code?” he hands the tracker to Bambam, who looks it over.

“First three numbers, 505? They could represent _SOS,_ ” the younger boy shrugs. “I don’t recognise the numbers after, though.”

“Doesn’t matter, now, evac’s coming,” Mark mutters, at the approaching sound of helicopter blades, and they look in its direction immediately, momentarily distracted.

“Uh,” Jackson says pointedly. “Isn’t the heli supposed to like, I don’t know, come _towards_ us?”

Jinyoung squints at the leaving helicopter, rising from the side of the building, for one second, two, before he glances at the tracker in Jaebum’s hand, beeping growing steadily weaker.

“SOS- that means it’s a distress signal, right?”

“It’s an enemy vessel, though,” Bambam says, managing to catch the words and markings on the side of the copter even as it travels away. “A distress signal to our frequency?”

Jinyoung grabs the tracker, studying the commands, before looking back at the helicopter, and his eyes widen.

“ _Shit_ , the numbers after, it’s a _serial number_ ,” Jinyoung’s reading the numbers again, before starting to shout, pointing at the helicopter. “Jaebum-hyung, it’s a _distress signal_ with a serial number- _it’s Youngjae’s serial number, hyung, he’s on that copter!”_

This becomes apparent when three more helicopters rise around them, all of different permutations, surrounding them in the centre, and the six back into a circle instinctively.

Gigantic guns click into position slowly, charging up, arming themselves, and Jaebum’s frozen, for a moment.

“Hyung,” Jackson says after a split second, clutching his rifle close, sending an urgent glance over. “Hyung, what do we do? The chopper’s getting away, hyung.”

It’s apparent, the internal turmoil that’s raging right now in the leader’s head- a choice between the case in his hands and the helicopter getting further away with every second, and the tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, until Jaebum finally bumps the case against Mark’s elbow, eyes still on the helicopter.

“Get. The. Case,” he grits out under his breath. “ _Onto_ the evac copter, at all costs, understood?”

There’s a collective understanding all of them manage to click into at once, a gear they seem to shift into at that moment, and Mark takes the case, catching Jaebum’s eye for a moment with a nod.

“Jinyoung, you’re with me,” Jaebum gestures with two fingers, and Jinyoung acknowledges tersely. “On my mark.”

The barrels of the guns on the helicopter begin to whirl threateningly.

“ _Go!”_

The two teams split like lightning, followed by the slam of heavy gunfire on the concrete rooftop, Jinyoung following Jaebum’s lead towards the ring of helicopters as Mark and the others head for the edge of the building.

The copter with the machine gun draws closer, tilting to a degree to give the gunman a better angle on the two approaching men, and only when Jaebum raises the cable gun does the pilot get a gist of what’s actually happening here.

It must have been a nasty surprise, becoming the hunted from the hunters within the blink of an eye, because the copter doesn’t even move, the pilot probably too shellshocked by the happenings to execute an evasive manoeuvre of any sort.

Jinyoung grabs the gun the same time as Jaebum secures a hold on the straps of the vest on the other man’s back and fires the gun, letting the hook catch the landing skids, and neither flinch at the tremendous tug as both of them are dragged up and forwards towards the cabin of the copter.

As per normal, Jinyoung’s the one to go in first- using the momentum from the ride up to leap ahead, slamming into the side of the copter and dragging the door open, just as Jaebum reaches the copter, twisting his body through the now clear route.

Jaebum doesn’t even talk, just points his gun at the gunman, gesturing impatiently for him to get lost, as Jinyoung knocks the other soldier on board out- there’s no time to lose, not when the copter holding Youngjae is getting further away.

Both men can literally feel the time ticking away after they get the pilot out, and Jaebum grabs the headset, gaining control of the vehicle easily, while Jinyoung settles behind the gun.

“ _Five o’ clock_!” Jinyoung’s shouting, and Jaebum’s already turning the copter in a steep swerve, pushing them ahead at full speed.

Their vehicle was obviously built for attack and pursuit, they note, because they catch up faster than expected. The fleeing chopper returns fire once they’re close enough, shattering the glass of the windshield, but Jaebum barely flinches.

“Don’t return fire on the main rotor, not until we’ve got Youngjae,” Jaebum orders, but Jinyoung isn’t moving, obviously thinking the same thing. “You ready to board?”

There’s a brief period of radio silence as Jinyoung aims the gun, picking off the other gunman with an accuracy that would make an Olympic shooter resign from shame, before Jaebum hears him dismount. That’s his cue to bring the copter in closer, watching the door open as one of the guards aims a rifle over, and there’s a heart-stopping moment as Jinyoung leaps in a smooth arc over the space, twisting his body to avoid the line of fire, gripping the floor of the copter before flipping himself into the body of the vehicle.

Jaebum jams the controls of the copter, then, fumbling ever so slightly in his haste, before unbuckling from the seat, eyes narrowed on the open door of the other copter, watching the flurry of bodies as Jinyoung clears the copter, waiting impatiently for an opportune moment. It takes a painstaking couple of seconds, but he eventually follows Jinyoung to jump through the shifting space over into the other copter, barely looking as the other vehicle spins out of control behind them, dropping below them quickly.

He blinks rapidly once he’s in, eyes adjusting to the dimness, the two or three bodies on the floor alerting him to the fact that Jinyoung’s already secured the space for them, and it’s only when his eyes lock on the back of the copter does he-…

“ _Hyung!_ ” Youngjae cries out, where Jinyoung has him wrapped up in what looks like a breathtaking hug. There’s the shadow of bruises and abuse and sleepless nights under his eyes and on his cheeks, and his clothes are definitely hanging looser on his frame than when he’d last been with them, but otherwise he looks fine, he looks alright, and half the tension seems to leave Jaebum, then.

He barely realises what he’s doing, before he’s on his knees beside them, joining in the embrace, letting out a breath that feels like it’s been stuck in his lungs since they’d been separated, every ache of fear and tension, visions of the big black block letters _MIA_ on the roll call back at HQ, vanishing like smoke.

“I can’t believe you got the signal, the transmission mechanism was still in beta stages, I didn’t think _anyone_ would-…” Youngjae’s talking in an endless stream like he always does when he’s panicking, his voice fraying like his nerves probably are, and Jaebum can literally _feel_ him shaking through two layers of clothing. “I thought I was going to miss you guys for _sure,_ how did you manage to-…”

“Did they do anything to you? Where were they bringing you?” Jaebum cuts through his anxious tangents, knowing it’s the only way to pull the younger man together, and Youngjae inhales.

“I don’t know, they said something about an exchange, I think they were going to trade me for something. My Japanese isn’t as good as Bambam’s.”

Jaebum’s grip tightens on Youngjae, and he sees Jinyoung’s jaw set itself in a certain way.

“If we hadn’t deciphered the signal in time-…heaven knows _where_ you’d be,” Jinyoung murmurs, sending a bitter glance in the direction of the bodies littering the copter. “I’m just glad we caught up before they got away.”

They’re interrupted, however, then, by the rude sound of gunfire pattering on the metal body of the copter, reminding Jaebum that they’re on an enemy vehicle hundreds of feet up in the air, and he forces himself to get to his feet, scrambling for a next course of action.

“Can you stand? Anything broken?” Jinyoung’s urging Youngjae, and the younger man’s shaking his head, twisting around to show them his bound hands.

“Get him out of the cuffs, I’ll get us on safe ground,” Jaebum says, breathless, as he heads for the now empty cockpit, before another round of gunfire rocks the copter, tearing holes along the exterior.

Jaebum realises just how cornered they are in that moment- there’s no question about attempting any acrobatics now, not while they’ve got Youngjae, and he curses himself for not having planned beyond this point.

He doesn’t even manage to get to the entrance before an explosion rocks the body of the helicopter, pitching the vehicle sideways, and Youngjae shouts out again in panic as Jinyoung loses his balance, slamming painfully hard against the standing poles in the body of the copter.

All that’s on Jaebum’s mind now is to get to the cockpit, turn them around and get them out of harm’s way before another round of ammunition can wreck the helicopter, but there’s barely a moment’s reprieve before one final explosion rips straight through the walls of the metal body, tilting the entire cabin violently to the side, and the movement’s violent enough to knock Jinyoung off his knees, and toss Youngjae forward towards the edge.

Jaebum’s paralysed, gripping tightly onto the handle near the door, watching Jinyoung’s body go limp when his head hits the edge of the cabin door before he’s pitched from the body of the copter, listening to Youngjae scream before he tumbles over the edge after Jinyoung, arms immobilised behind him.

It takes him a second to respond, takes Jaebum a moment to struggle to his feet, breathing harsh, sending a glance through the gaping hole in the hull at the triumphant look on the face of the pilot in the offending helicopter, as if to say _guess all that was for nothing, now you’ve lost them both._

Something snaps in him, then, something cold and desperate and burning, and he grits his teeth, reaching over to slam a fist into the storage of the copter, before tearing out a parachute and slinging it over his shoulders.

“Over my _dead-…”_ he tugs it on, fingers working through the straps automatically. _“Fucking-…_ ” he pushes aside the remnants of the doorway, gravity be _damned._ “ _Body.”_

And he leaps out of the wreck of the copter, eyes dead set on the two falling figures ahead.  
  
*

One of the few things Jackson possibly hates more than being forced to shut up by Jaebum (for no good reason, he insists, because it isn’t even like he talks a lot, anyway) is being forced off a hundred storey building into freefall of uncertain consequences.

Unfortunately for him, this is exactly what he’s made to do, because desperate times call for desperate measures, and he’d be damned if being cornered by machine gun fire off a rooftop doesn’t fall under _very desperate times_.

The first thing he thinks of is _gonna die, gonna die, shit I’m gonna die_ , before he remembers that he’s a professional, trained to be tactful and calm in situations like these, to strategise the best solution in the shortest time, so he focuses on the subject at hand.

 _Mark has a really nice ass,_ he observes gratuitously, about ten feet into their plummet down. And _oh yeah, we need to get the case on our evac ride out._

“ _Stop looking at my ass_ ,” Mark shouts into the radio, and Jackson splutters.

“ _This is_ so _not what I need to be hearing before I die,”_ Bambam complains next. Jackson glares. He hates them all.

It’s a precious second later that they hear the low hum of an engine they all recognise, though, and snap back into action at once, Mark shouting out a _there, it’s getting closer,_ falling into formation in the air as the dropship (the real one, this time) lines up close by, falling in tandem with them, cargo bay wide open.

“We’ve got to get in closer! _”_ Jackson’s yelling, and Mark’s urging a hand forward, trying to get a grip on the body of the vehicle.

He’s forced to draw back, however, at the rattle of gunfire that disrupts them- a spread firing dangerously close actually hitting the sides of the ship, and it’s only when Jackson hears the low curse of pain in the radio that he looks over to see the case whirl out of Mark’s now bleeding hands.

“ _Case!_ ” Mark bellows, injured hand clutched in the other, and Bambam’s quick enough to grab it as Jackson twists his rifle out from behind him, firing into the cockpit of the offending helicopter.

They’re dangerously close to the ground now, and the sides of the building are getting closer to them as the structure gets wider on the way down. Bambam’s aligning himself towards the cargo bay, case clutched tight to his chest, and Jackson grabs his shoulder, ready to push him in if the opportunity arises, rifle still aimed and searching for the last helicopter.

“ _Hold on to him!”_ Mark’s voice comes into the radio, and Jackson barely has the time to make sense of what he’s saying, let alone get a proper grip on Bambam, before he turns to see Mark kick hard against the side of the building.

His shoulder’s braced against his body, and the sharp protrusion sinks hard into Jackson’s side, sending both him and Bambam spiralling into the cargo bay, and Jackson’s winded for a moment when he tumbles clumsily into the cold, hard space, Bambam in his arms.

Panic explodes, however, as the ship tilts violently and suddenly, and he realises it’s pulling up, it’s _pulling up_ _and leaving without Mark_ , and he stumbles to his feet, grabbing one of the bars on the side for support.

“ _Cargo bay doors now closing, secure objective in the designated safe zone,_ ” the order over the radio’s made clearly even through the rush of wind, decisive and firm. Jackson, of course, ignores it, instead roughly grabbing the talkie connecting the cargo bay to the cockpit.

“ _Get the ship back down there!_ ” he doesn’t remember ever shouting this loudly, feeling like his throat’s about to tear itself to pieces. “ _Mark’s not on yet, he’s-…”_

A cry of pain rips through the radio, and both Jackson and Bambam freeze, bodies rigid, chests heaving with their breaths, fearing the worst. But then-…

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Mark’s voice comes in, laboured and breathless, and Jackson almost melts into a puddle of jelly on the floor right then.

“Mark, dude, how the hell are you alive?” Jackson’s pressing the earpiece in, straining to hear above the whistle of the wind around the space, absently kneeling to help Bambam up. “Alive as in, _not_ a pile of spaghetti bolognaise on the floor right now?”

“ _Ow,”_ Mark groans, and the two of them hold still for a moment, paying rapt attention. _“You won’t believe who I’m with, guys, this is fucking ridiculous-…it’s_ Yugyeom _, I’m with Yugyeom right now.”_

“Is he in a copter?” Jackson asks in disbelief, while Bambam’s eyes widen until it’s almost comical. He was _so_ not going to lose out on hijacking an enemy copter to some _kid._ Mark snorts.

“ _That’s the best part. We’re not.”_

*

Yugyeom had realised about 0.32 seconds after lobbing Bambam up that it probably wasn’t the best thing he could’ve done for the piping he was holding on to, because it’d slid by a dangerous margin, metal groaning against the broken concrete.

 _Don’t kill me, please_ , is Yugyeom’s first instinct. _I still haven’t beaten Bambam’s high score in Halo Wars multiplayer. I can’t die like this._

He regrets not climbing further to try to grab the concrete edges, bloodied hands be damned, because it’s only a few more seconds of pathetic clinging before the piping gives even further, and Yugyeom’s eyes widen.

_Shit._

He makes one last grab for any solid surface, any at all, as the piping finally breaks, and his fingers manage to close on a glorious amount of nothing before he feels gravity claim him, and the plummet begins.

 _Good grief, this might be it,_ he thinks, spiralling messily through the first ten feet down. Then, _I should’ve just had that last chocolate shake before the mission._

He’s spreading his arms and legs, trying to create as much resistance as possible, and it’s then he realises how long a drop it actually is to the bottom, and feels oddly burdened.

 _I’m sorry for breaking your iPod speakers, Mark hyung,_ he chooses to think solemnly in these last moments. _I’m sorry for making fun of your emotional ineptitude, Jaebum hyung. I’m sorry for eating all your pork dumplings that one time, Jackson hyung. I’m sorry for-…_

A nudge against his foot brings his attention to the fact that bodies are falling- Bambam’s work from up there, no doubt, and amidst the desire to scoff, an idea springs into his head.

 _Okay, I take that all back, I’m not sorry for anything,_ he thinks contentedly, grabbing two of the bodies and roughly bunching them together with the short piece of cable looped around his waist, straightening them out, until they form a shield, of sorts.

There’s a level he remembers from studying the layout of the building- an open-air garden level for leisure and recreation or whatever, one that, very importantly, doesn’t have a window that might possibly give him a concussion when he does what he’s planning to do next.

He squints below, watching the one open-air level approach, and sighs, taking a grenade out from the pouch behind him, a gun in his other hand.

_This is going to hurt me._

Yugyeom bites the pin, securing the human shield close to him, before tossing the explosive out in front of the shield, getting his gun out immediately after to let loose a spread of blind shots, catching the grenade on the second one.

The explosion is tremendous, slamming first into the human shield Yugyeom’s constructed, then into him, propelling him forcefully into the safety of the open-air level as desired.

What is not desired is the pain that sparks like fireworks when he hits the miscellaneous furniture and random potted plants on the level, and Yugyeom’s wheezing for the first few minutes he’s sprawled on the ground, forcing the spikes of pain down, wondering what he’s fractured and if the damage is reparable.

He thinks he blacks out several times there, blinking in and out of consciousness, trying to clear his head and assess the damage. He doesn’t know how long it is before he actually manages to try to sit up, albeit shakily, checking his head, neck, back, then his limbs, relieved when he’s confirmed that nothing drastic has happened to his facial features ( _what a shame_ , Bambam would’ve sniped if he were here). While Yugyeom’ll be dragging his bruised and battered hide to the infirmary to stay there for the next three days or so, it’s certainly better than ending up an unfortunate human trash bag on ground level.

His head is spinning, white threatening to cloud over his vision from the sound of the grenade, and he touches his ear blearily, hoping not to feel blood.

Much to his relief, he doesn’t feel anything liquid- instead his fingers prod the earpiece, and he taps it insistently, hoping it’s still working. He’s planning how best to make Bambam feel as guilty as possible for letting him fall, when he realises he’d given his mic to Bambam back up there, and groans.

On the bright side, though, his earpiece crackles to life, so he won’t exactly be going into this blind.

“ _Five o’ clock!_ ” he swears he hears someone yell into their radio the moment it’s operational.

 _Goodness, how long was I out for? It can’t be past noon._ Yugyeom taps the radio a bit more, ears still buzzing from the explosion, before he tunes into something a lot more interesting.

_“Stop looking at my ass!”_

_Okay, hyung_ , he thinks, absently checking his equipment as he waits for context of some sort to explain why anyone would be looking at Mark’s ass (actually, scratch that, it’s probably Jackson, and there’s probably no good reason). Predictably, none comes. Instead-…

“ _This is so not what I need to be hearing before I die._ ”

 _Die-…_ that doesn’t exactly sound ideal, especially when Yugyeom almost killed himself thrice trying to save Bambam that day. It’s then he realises the buzzing in the radio isn’t all in his head- it’s wind, _wind resistance_ , and that means they’ve decided to join Yugyeom’s crew and try out sky diving without the parachutes or the harnesses, probably not by free will, which means (he lets out a put upon sigh here) he probably should do something to try to save their sorry behinds.

He limps over to the railing to peer up, confirming that the three fast approaching skydivers-sans-parachutes are indeed fighting helicopter gunfire and trying to get into the dropship, and groans, looking around the cheerfully green level for a semblance of a plan.

That’s when his eyes catch the hulking, polished, open air mid-size Wrangler Jeep sitting on the display stand in the centre of the level, “Go Off-Road!” put up in a merry sign with faux foliage surrounding it, and lets out a breath of laughter, before starting to limp towards the vehicle, wondering just how crazy today is going to get for him.

 _Very crazy_ , he concludes, about two seconds after the two seconds it’s taken him to hotwire the vehicle, counting down neatly the time it’ll take for anyone to pass this level on the clock in his head, before revving the engine and gripping the steering wheel uncertainly.

_Very, very crazy._

*

(The mission log of what he does next is ranked somewhere near the top of the list of things they tell new recruits back at the Academy (not much younger than himself) to _never_ , not unless they’re incredibly crazy or dumb, _ever_ do.

He calls it an excellent combination of physical calculations, bravery, and pretty damn awesome driving skills for a minor.

Yugyeom almost doesn’t want to part with the Jeep once he and Mark are three rooftops away and heading towards the secondary rendezvous point at the docks. This leads to a tedious argument akin to one a father would have with a rebellious son wanting to bring home a pet tiger.

Mark eventually wins by saying that Yugyeom doesn’t have a legitimate license, not in any country and certainly not in Japan, (not counting the six he’s attained illegally using fake IDs, including one to pilot a jet plane) and Yugyeom is forced to bid the Jeep a teary farewell at the pick-up point.)

  


[part IV](http://symmetrophobic.livejournal.com/13267.html)


	4. 004.

Somewhere much higher up in the air, with an actual parachute this time, Jaebum realises about one second out from the helicopter that he doesn’t actually know how he’s going to do this.

Youngjae’s still cuffed. Jinyoung is unconscious. They have one parachute between the three of them, and while Jaebum would give it up to save them both, there’s no way both of them would be able to hang on through the initial jerk once the parachute inflates while they’re incapacitated like this.

He’s desperately running solutions through his mind when he draws closer, relieved to note that despite the terrifying freefall and the handcuffs, Youngjae’s still managed to hold onto Jinyoung, making his job a lot easier than it would’ve been if they’d been separated. Youngjae’s eyes widen once he sees Jaebum, and his mouth opens, shouting out something that’s stolen immediately by the wind rushing in their faces.

“I can’t hear you!” Jaebum draws as close as he can get, till he’s got one hand on them both, feeling some semblance of security at the fact. It’s then he realises Youngjae’s shouting out a string of numbers, trying to twist his body to show Jaebum the cuffs, and _oh-…_

Right, he’d forgotten to calibrate the fact that Youngjae’s a genius, and somehow managed to mentally hack the electronic cuffs without actually touching the display panel. Something else that’ll make his job a lot easier.

Jaebum swallows his panic, then, forces all fears of impact out of his mind, flipping open the display panel and punching in every number and letter that Youngjae shouts, barely audible over the wind, and his fingers are shaking when he gets the last button, and the cuffs break loose.

Youngjae grabs the straps of Jaebum’s harness once the cuffs come off, pulling Jinyoung’s motionless body in closer to them, eyes wide with barely-suppressed fear and expectation of _what are we going to do, how are we going to get out of this?_

Jinyoung’s still unconscious, face pale, blood spattered from an injury along his hairline, and Jaebum feels a stab of guilt at making him go into the copter first. He aligns him gently in between them both, gesturing quickly for Youngjae to hold onto him.

“When I pull the strap,” he shouts over the wind, making a pulling motion near the parachute. “There’s going to be a jerk, so you have to hold on tight, okay?”

Youngjae nods hastily- he’s been trained for basic fieldwork, sure, but Jaebum knows for a fact Youngjae had hacked the system to fake his results so he could pass without actually doing most of the final examinations. He’d forged a whole statement under Jaebum’s name saying he’d “surpassed expectations for the marksmanship assessment”, when in reality he’d be lucky to shoot point blank and hit anything at all.

Jinyoung’s head lolls as they secure their grip around him, and Jaebum feels his stomach flip-flop unpleasantly at the approaching buildings below them. “I’m pulling, one, two-…”

He gives the strap a final tug, bracing as the parachute rises behind him, arms tight under Jinyoung’s arms, supporting the three of them, and as the parachute finally fills out, there’s a breathtaking tug as expected.

Jaebum’s biceps _burn_ at the sharp tug, but he strains to keep supporting the two of them, Youngjae clinging on tight to the straps of the parachute whilst holding onto Jinyoung now that the drop’s lulled to a more gentle descent.

The flat, open surface of one of the low-lying facilities below now seems like everything Jaebum could ever ask for, and he counts down the seconds in his head until they hit blessed, solid ground.

Youngjae’s apparently even more eager than he is, because he drops when they’re a few feet above ground, stumbling magnificently and tumbling to his knees, and the relief of one less body makes its presence felt on Jaebum’s arms at once.

It’s unfortunate, then, that the wind, on a capricious whim, decides to choose _that_ moment to pick up, and Jaebum curses as the parachute lifts up behind him, dragging him off his feet, and he struggles momentarily with Jinyoung in his arms, fighting to get the parachute off.

He’s despairing his fate when he realises the not-so-unconscious person he’s holding is moving, turning around groggily, hand worked into his back pocket, and Jaebum flinches, eyes closed, as Jinyoung lifts his knife above both their heads in one swift movement to cut them loose, before letting the weapon clatter to the floor some distance away when they tumble down, breathing hard, eyes screwed shut.

“There’s a reason,” Jinyoung says firmly, though faintly, after a few seconds of catching their breath. “Why I’m in charge of aviation, and you’re better off planning our land missions.”

“I just _saved_ you,” Jaebum wheezes in a groan, struggling up to see Youngjae running over anxiously, his step still a little unsteady, and Jinyoung rolls over, flopping back on the rooftop, eyes half-closed, revelling in some much-needed horizontal ground level time.

“Group hug,” he initiates with a grimace, pulling Youngjae down once he’s close enough, beaming weakly, and Jaebum lets out a bubble of laughter, not bothering to get up yet, unable to believe they’re all alive.

Youngjae jumps, though, as there’s a loud patter of gunfire, and Jaebum’s struggling off at once, squinting up at the copter hovering some distance from them, gunman raining bullets closer and closer to them. A hundred thoughts are going through Jaebum’s mind at once, ranging from _oh shit the case they’d better have gotten the case onto the evac ship_ to _retreat, cover, need to secure the area_.

Then there’s two clean shots, and the gunman topples out, plummeting somewhere beyond their line of sight, and Jaebum turns pensively to look at Jinyoung, who’s glaring the copter down, gun aimed at the empty spot behind the machine gun.

“ _Group hug,_ ” Jinyoung hisses venomously, half at the pilot, who decides it’s best for everyone that he quietly excuse himself at this point, before doing an about turn and high tailing it out of here while he still can, and Youngjae snuggles happily up to Jinyoung at the retreating sound of rotor blades, while Jaebum slumps beside them, grinning.

Calling for evacuation can wait for a second.

*

It’s two days in the Osaka base before any of them feel sufficiently equipped to start operating as per normal again.

Normal by their definition, anyway.

Jackson sprawls out luxuriously on Jinyoung’s cot, before he’s neatly kicked off onto the floor and left to sulk his way over to Mark’s bed to the sound of laughter.

Yugyeom’s arguing with Bambam about something again, probably about who would get to use the bottom bunk once they’re back at home base and how offensively pink Bambam’s toothbrushes always are. By the medical staff’s calculations, the maknae would have to stay in the infirmary the longest out of any of them, Mark coming in as a close second, and when Bambam expressed his awkwardly firm insistence on staying that duration, the rest of them sort of followed suit, despite knowing about the boredom that would quickly ensue.

Youngjae’s curled up miserably on the bed beside Mark’s, having promised Jaebum that he’d take up refresher courses for all the fieldwork assessments and hence regretting life decisions, and the cozy room bursts into raucous laughter as Bambam leaps onto the bed from Yugyeom’s, effectively bouncing Youngjae off with a yell onto the floor.

This laughter dims to a serious hush, however, as the door opens and Jaebum walks back in from the overall mission debrief, lips thin, sighing in exhaustion. All eyes are on him as he settles on the chair beside Yugyeom’s bed, slumping back, stretching his legs out.

“Well?” Jinyoung’s trying not to sound too anxious, and Jaebum cracks open an eyelid.

“I wasn’t demoted, big surprise there,” he says, and there’s a collective sigh of relief. “Apparently my blatant disregard for the mission objective will be overlooked due to the fact that I _recovered valuable JYP Academy assets_ ,” he points in the vague direction of Youngjae for a moment, who grumbles a bit at being called an _asset._ “And the case was secured eventually, so. Things are okay.”

“No one’s gotten down on their knees to thank me yet,” Mark says pointedly.

“ _I_ can get down on my knees to _thank_ you,” Jackson waggles his eyebrows, and Jinyoung whacks a pillow into the back of his head with surprising strength for someone who’s been bedridden for almost a day, with a death whisper of _there are minors here_ , and Yugyeom and Bambam laugh excitedly from their beds, eagerly looking on for more.

“Uh, hyung, about the fieldwork assessments,” Youngjae starts hesitantly, from where he’s now seated primly at the foot of Yugyeom’s bed. “Actually, uhm, I’ve been thinking about it-…”

“And you’re going for the refresher courses,” Jaebum says sternly. “ _Physically_.”

“It’s okay, Jae,” Jackson rounds the bed, clapping a hand on his back, sending a dirty look over at Jinyoung. “We’ll all be here to help with the training. It’s not like your hand-to-hand combat’s _all_ that bad, anyway.”

“Yeah, you almost came in top for _evasive manoeuvres_ during our last group assessment,” Yugyeom cackles, nudging Youngjae with his foot under the blanket, smile disappearing one second later, however, at the look on the older boy’s face. “Oh, shit, I didn’t mean it, don’t hack my Xbox account, _please_ , I just got past the third Boss, _hyung-…_ ”

“There’s a line, Gyeom, and you’re toeing it,” Youngjae says darkly, before retreating to his little ball of misery once more. “Hyung, it’s so unfair, Donghyuk from YG Institution, he faked _all_ his physical assessment scores-…”

“That’s Hanbin’s problem,” Jaebum says unconcernedly, eyes closed. “Training studio, tomorrow, 7am. Let’s get this over with.”

Youngjae collapses sideways onto Yugyeom’s bed, curled into a snail shell, whining loudly, and this is apparently Bambam’s cue to pounce on him, eliciting a yell, that just gets louder as Jackson joins in on top of them both enthusiastically.

Jaebum’s forced to his feet at the dirty glare the nurse shoots him from behind the curtain, reluctantly peeling the two most unnecessarily excitable members off their shell-shocked, flattened tech specialist, depositing them on Mark’s and Yugyeom’s beds respectively so Youngjae can breathe, and Jinyoung scowls, gesturing for the younger boy to join him.

“Anything else the directors had to say, hyung?” he asks, once the noise has subsided a bit, a battered Youngjae gathered protectively to his chest, and Jaebum shrugs.

“New assignment, once we get back to the Daegu base, week after next,” he says, and the rest snap to attention, some a little more reluctantly than others.

“Another one already?” Mark says with a resigned sort of annoyance.

“They know what we’re made of,” Jackson puffs out his chest. “We’re hot property now!”

“Does this mean I can skip some of the final assessments?” Youngjae asks hopefully.

Jaebum shrugs again, with more emphasis this time, as he reclines back on Jinyoung’s bed, his feet up on the neighbouring bed, ignoring Youngjae’s question as he lets out an invasive sigh.

“This is our job, guys, this is what we do.”

A moment of dramatic, post-war silence follows. Then-

“Damn straight,” Jackson nods.

“Shut up, Jackson,” Mark says tiredly.

“ _Make_ me,” Jackson grins, then, and Jinyoung almost throws the fruit bowl at him, _almost,_ because Youngjae manages to stop him in time, and Yugyeom and Bambam are rolling on the bed, laughing, the maknae clutching his chest, trying not to mess up the treatment for his fractured rib.

This time, Jaebum doesn’t bother getting up to do damage control, instead smiling, letting the mirth cushion them, insulate them from what they are, what they do- he’ll let them have their fun, this once.

Heaven knows they need it, anyway.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading this far! <3 yes haha uhm this might be part of a series... (???) depending on how much longer this au continues to bug my brain huzzah \o/ hope you guys enjoyed it! ^.^


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